


The Bond of a Mentor and his Student

by IntelligentWolf



Series: Dragon Age: Maxwell's Adventures [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (kind of- mentions a codex entry from Inquisition), Author is bad at writing descriptions of anything, Dragon Age Lore, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mage-Templar War, Minor Character Death, OC is Unnamed because I can't think up good names, is not that violent but it's not generic either, so make one up yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 00:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntelligentWolf/pseuds/IntelligentWolf
Summary: Maxwell and his team are running through the Hinterlands stopping the Mages and Templars from practically destroying the Hinterlands when one Rebel Mage brings this entire War that much closer to Maxwell.





	The Bond of a Mentor and his Student

**Author's Note:**

> Well I wrote this instead of sleeping and I can't write very well so enjoy the crazy chaotic writing that is this fic.
> 
> I don't own any of the characters except for how my own Inquisitor looks and acts. Even the Rebel mage OC is just a random guy I found in my playthrough and took a screenshot of him and Maxwell fighting and that's how this fic got stuck in my brain!
> 
> Enjoy!!

Maxwell didn’t want to fight as soon as he saw him, but the arrows and ice bolts and fireballs were flying passed his ears, their faint whistles quickly becoming distant memory as he pulled his staff off his back and started his practiced movements to send his own fireballs in their direction.

 

He tried to pull back his punches as an older mage came forward, some of Varric’s arrows sticking out of him, a few cuts from Cassandra’s sword on his arms, blood flowing into the cloth.  He was balding, had gray hair, and a feathered Circle Mage robe.  His eyes were filled with rage as he sent ice towards Maxwell.  Max’s eyes filled with tears as he sent his own magic towards him, hoping he could at least capture this man and save him.

 

He was his old teacher, the one who comforted him when his parents had to leave after they found out he was a mage.  The one who snuck in sweets for the class if the templars watching the class weren’t so bad.  The one who chased away the nightmares.

 

The one who was about to kill him, enchanted sword up high - ready to strike.

 

He swung his staff as he got close and whacked the old man in the ribs, then whacked him again on the back, blunt end of the staff sending the old man down with a solid _thump._  The fight was over after that.  Maxwell threw his staff away and rolled the old man over as Solas, Cassandra, and Varric all ran over to see what happened.  The old mage was wheezing and the rage in his eyes was gone, he looked around confused, a bit of blood at the corner of his mouth.  The Herald felt tears running down his face, like they were burning a path in his cheeks.

  
“M…. Max?  Is that…. Oh my.”  The old man closed his eyes and tears also fell from his face, his voice weak from age and exhaustion, “Maker forgive me, son.”  He raised a hand and brushed Maxwell’s tears away with his thumb.

 

“Why?”  Maxwell whispered, “You weren’t the type to do this… To rebel-”  He was silenced by the old man waving his hand lightly, an old habit of getting the little ones to shush when it was time for class.

 

“One day you will understand what happened.  Our Circle was not bad but there was talk of rebelling….. For years.”  He coughed and winced.  Maxwell sniffed and cupped the man’s head with his hands, brushing away the man’s tears, “I’m proud of you, Maxwell.  I heard what happened and I know you’ll do great things.  You were one of my best students.”

 

“I got into a lot of trouble.”  Maxwell chuckled, his smile more like a grimace. The old mage smiled back and nodded.

 

“You did, but you were always going to be greater then some Circle Mage teacher.  You’re family wouldn’t have let that happen for too long and neither would you.”

 

“I’d give anything to be a teacher right now though.” They both laughed but the elder coughed up some blood after losing his breath, “I’m sorry, ser.  I tried.”

 

“It’s okay, Max.  I forgive you.  And so will the Maker.”   He cupped the back of Maxwell’s head and gently brought him down and kissed his forehead, “Good luck, Maxwell.”  He closed his eyes and lay his hands on his chest, his breathing slowed to a stop.  Maxwell started lightly sobbing, holding onto the body like it was about to vanish into thin air.  After a minute he felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see Varric kneeling next to him.  He felt him squeeze his shoulder and saw him motion his head towards Cassandra.

  
“Would you like me to sing a verse from _Transfigurations 10:1_?  I’m sure we can light a pyre for him somewhere.”  All Maxwell could do was nod as he moved to get the pyre ready.  Varric helped him to carry stones while Solas just watched from afar.  Cassandra cleared her throat a few times as Maxwell put the last of the preparations together and set the body on the pyre.  He sent a few small fireballs strategically through the pyre so it would light evenly.

 

Cassandra sang beautifully, and Varric rubbed a hand over Maxwell’s back as he sat there and watched.  Tears fell down his face but he didn’t weep.  He hoped his mentor was with the Maker and Andraste.

 

He hoped what he said was true.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, that chant that's mentioned is an actual codex entry you can find in Haven! And I pulled the pyre thing outta my butt after some research and a couple tumblr posts that I can't find the links to at the moment, so if you can find them please leave the links below for me!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the little fic, it's a kinda weird one for me. Don't really write sad fiction.


End file.
